


His Comfort Blanket

by Whoareyou0000



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Arthur dressing Merlin, Bad Weather, Boys Kissing, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Merlin dressing Arthur, No Smut, POV Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Panic Attacks, Pining Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Pining Merlin (Merlin), Prince Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Protective Merlin, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:00:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23708020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whoareyou0000/pseuds/Whoareyou0000
Summary: "If a knight were to have a comfort blanket, which Arthur certainly did not, then his sword would serve as the logical choice. Though the blade could do nothing against nature’s wrath, making it hardly comforting."Only the lopsided smile and clumsy touches of his dark-haired servant managed to soothe his fears and silence the raging storm.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 534





	His Comfort Blanket

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin, Arthur, or their world. 
> 
> Author's Note: WARNING- content contains reference to anxiety attacks and storm phobias. Read with caution if these topics are triggering for you. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy this puddle of angst and hurt/comfort and thanks for reading. <3

The door to Arthur’s chambers shuttered with the force of the wind, causing the prince to raise serious eyes from the hands currently smoothing down his nightshirt. The servant’s finger’s stilled, resting too comfortably upon the toned abdominal muscles. Neither man moved, both watching the door with unspoken dismay. 

“Gaius said this storm is going to last at least until tomorrow.” Merlin dragged his fingers to the edges of the garment. “They’ve already cancelled the festivities for the morning.” 

Arthur swallowed, urging his suddenly nervous stomach to settle, and returned his attention to the gangly arms now encircling his waist with great care. Merlin swung around and assessed him from the front with the attentive eyes of a seasoned servant. The intense examination stirred something deep in Arthur’s nether region and he forced a cold reply. 

“They’re nobles, Merlin, too afraid to get their hair wet. I’m sure it’ll hardly last the evening.” 

The storm answered by violently banging the shutters together. This earned a frown from the prince and a humorous grin from his servant. Merlin worked to lace the trousers, not quite meeting their owner’s briefly softening eyes. 

“I’m sure you’re right, sire. What’s a little cyclone against you’re formidable joust?” 

A final tug kept the trousers in place, allowing Merlin to stand tall and face his master’s challenging stare. A flash of lightning electrified the air. Arthur distracted himself from the pending boom with his own innuendo. 

“That’s a big word for you, Merlin.” Arthur cocked his head, suddenly brave. Merlin bit his tempting lip to keep down a growing smirk. “Maybe I should practice my _formidable_ joust on you next time.” 

Merlin snorted, bending down to retrieve Arthur’s dirty clothing from the floor. 

“Only if I get to jab at you right back. Fair fight and all that.” Arthur stared, his mouth hanging open in a cheeky smile. Merlin gave a barking laugh and hugged the clothing closer to his chest. “I mean, is there anything else I can do for you, my lord?” 

A clack of thunder startled both men, disrupting Arthur’s planned reply and causing Merlin to jump in place. The shutters burst open, spilling pelting rain into the quarters and over the wooden floor. Arthur recovered first, darting to the window and using his body weight against the imposing wind. Merlin joined him in time to latch the wooden planks together, effectively stopping the flow of rain. Arthur quickly moved away from the window, shaking his now sopping night shirt. 

“I told you these shutters needed fixing.” He eyed Merlin from afar, amplifying his frustration to cover the tremor in his voice. His sleeves hung loosely from his arms like a child wearing his father’s clothes. “Well don’t just stand there like an idiot, help me off with this will you?” 

Merlin reported to the prince’s side at once, pulling the drenched fabric up and over his head. He dropped the shirt atop the other dirty clothes and gathered a towel from the corner of the room. Arthur snatched it and dragged it against his chest, picking up the beading drops over his racing heart. 

“I’ll fetch you a replacement from the laundry at once, sire.” Merlin cradled the dirty clothes and started for the door. He pushed on the handle only for it to slam abruptly at the command of the wind. A second try elicited a yelp when it nearly captured his fingers. At that he jumped back and caught Arthur’s eyes, his brows furrowed in confusion. Arthur threw his bare arms up in true frustration. 

“Allow me, Merlin.” Arthur gave an exasperated sigh and marched past his servant. “First thing tomorrow, we’re training. I’m going to put some muscle on your arms if it kills you.” 

Arthur gripped the handle and pushed. The wooden slab didn’t budge. He shook his head, meeting Merlin’s wide questioning eyes, and tried again. This time the door opened a finger’s length before the wind took it back with a mighty slam. 

“This is absurd.” Arthur pounded on his door now. “Guard! My door is stuck. Open it at once.” 

A mighty whistle was the only response, the wind’s trademark song. Arthur beat on the door again, eliciting no reply. Finally, Leon’s deep voice came through, hoarse and out of breath.

“I apologize, my lord. The storm has broken through the castle’s windows. There’s flooding and debris blocking the corridor. It’s best that you remain in your quarters until it passes, for your own safety.” 

Arthur leaned his back against the door, his head suddenly swimming, and met Merlin’s dumbfounded face. The servant ran a hand through his dark hair, slick from his brief trip the window, and nodded. 

“I’ll go out and check myself. I’m sure it’s not as bad as they say.” Merlin marched towards the door, clothes in hand, and raised his fist to knock. Arthur’s hand shot out, clasping the wrist firmly and stopping the pending motion. Big blue eyes turned to him in question. Arthur searched for an answer himself and plucked his first excuse. 

“Don’t bother, Merlin. If Leon can’t pass, then you’ll hardly make it will you?” Arthur dragged his fingers away from the soft skin and took a step back from the door. His mood moved from fiercely protective to dismissive in a moment. “I’m sure it’ll be cleared by morning. In the meantime, you’ll take shelter here.” 

Merlin followed with determined steps and a few heavy blinks. “I’m sorry, sire. Are you ordering me to stay the night?” 

Those dark eyebrows crooked in a combination of confusion and something unreadable. Arthur took in Merlin’s nervously bobbing Adam’s Apple and rested his face in a serious line. 

“I would never _order_ such a thing.” Arthur circled back and took a seat at the table that held his untouched dinner. “It’s not as if we have a choice though, do we? Sit down. Eat something.”

Merlin stood tall, fists clenched at his sides, and worried at his lower lip like a grumpy toddler. The whole image manifested disturbingly affectionate thoughts that quickly extinguished at the next explosion of light and sound. A few moments passed before Arthur and his servant finally relaxed. 

“If you say so, sire.” He barely made it to the opposite chair when a clap of thunder shook the castle, causing the dinnerware to rattle together. Arthur gripped the armrests of his chair like a lifeline and pulled in a tight breath through clenched teeth. He looked up to see those sympathetic saucer eyes watching closely. “Are you alright, Arthur?” 

“Of course I’m fine, Merlin!” His volume rivaled the pounding rain. Merlin didn’t flinch, though. He simply raised his eyebrows and hid an infuriating smirk. “Just eat…will you?” 

“As you wish.” Merlin leaned forward and plucked a few grapes from the bowl. He held them gingerly in his lap, seemingly considering whether or not to put them in his mouth. He snuck a glance back at Arthur and gave a gentle smile. “You know, it’s okay to be afraid sometimes. I’m afraid of a lot of things- spiders, ghosts, the castle chef.” 

The wind howled past the chamber door and an unrecognizable shout came from down the hall. Arthur’s heart hammered against his chest. His eyes sought out his sword from across the room. If a knight were to have a comfort blanket, which Arthur certainly did not, then his sword would serve as the logical choice. Though the blade could do nothing against nature’s wrath, making it hardly comforting.

“Really, Merlin? I hadn’t noticed.” He choked out a reply while staring indifferently at his plate of meat and cheese. “A fear of storms would be the least embarrassing of your phobias, I imagine.”

“Actually, I’m not afraid of weather. Back in Ealdor, we had storms just as violent as this if not worse.” Merlin shifted, finally placing a grape in his cheek. He sucked on it briefly, properly distracting Arthur, before swallowing. Then he leaned towards the prince with a devious smile. “Will and I used to go to this big empty field and run against the wind with our arms out like wings.” He illustrated the notion, dropping one of his grapes and nearly knocking a candle over in the process. “When it pushes you back, it feels like you’re flying. It’s incredible.” 

A stroke of light illuminated the younger man. He leaned back with a satisfying exhale, his face fresh from the pleasant memory, and met Arthur’s eyes warmly. For a moment, the prince’s heartbeat slowed. He took a full breath and let the charming image of a young Merlin soothe his firing nerves. A thought pierced his filter and escaped his mouth at the next roar of the wind.

“Running straight into danger even then, I see. Your mother must have been worried sick.” 

Merlin studied his remaining grape and moved it between his fingers effortlessly. Then he smiled and met Arthur’s inquisition with hooded eyes. 

“Yes, but she understood me.” He breathed, looked up at a startling flash of lightning, and then continued. “Afterwards, I’d go to the lake and collect all the fish that washed up and throw them back in the water before they suffocated. Will always laughed at me. He told me we’d probably catch the same fish the next day anyway.” Finally, he ate the grape, moving his tongue between his cheeks in a way that made Arthur’s stomach flip. “I suppose he was right.”

Arthur disguised a wince at the next thundering boom. Then he straightened in his chair, head resting on his fist, and watched Merlin, who now seemed to find his boots entirely too interesting. The wet fringe clung to his forehead and made the mop even darker, paling his pensive face in comparison. His sopping tunic clung to his chest and he appeared suddenly too uncomfortable.

“Merlin, fetch a clean nightshirt from my wardrobe.” 

Merlin’s eyes lifted at Arthur’s near whisper of a command. Those full lips worked at a number of different replies before they lifted into an understanding smile.

“Right, I nearly forgot. Sorry.” He stood and moved to the wardrobe, pulling out a long white shirt that reached his knees. Then he padded back to Arthur, eyebrows raised. “Well stand up then, clot pole, I can’t very well dress you from this angle.” 

Arthur looked down at his chest, briefly illuminated by a stroke of lightning, and only then remembered his own shirtless state. He let out a harrumph and shook his head. Finally, he stood, leaned down, and pushed his arms out as Merlin slid the shirt over his body. The warm fabric immediately alerted him to his chilled skin and Merlin’s not-so-warm hands slid down his sides to smooth the material. He waited for his servant to return to his front before raising his head and gesturing to the wardrobe. 

“Get one for yourself now. If you remain in that sodden attire, you’ll surely catch your death. Then who will muck out my horses, tomorrow?”

Merlin’s cheeks flushed and those eyes, blue as Arthur’s favorite springtime sky, met his with overwhelming gratitude. Then, with a subtle nod, he returned to the cupboard and emerged with a similar shirt, only in blue. He didn’t bother with the changing screen, to Arthur’s delight, and instead attempted to pull the wet garment over his head. A clap of thunder startled the younger man and he nearly got stuck in the head hole before extricating himself completely. 

If the goofy sideways grin and scruffy hair that emerged didn’t warm Arthur up the rest of the way, nothing would. 

“You’re impossible, Merlin.” He smiled and approached his servant from behind with a clean towel. “Here, stand still for a moment.” 

Merlin did as he was told, for once. Arthur first placed the towel over Merlin’s head and scrubbed just roughly enough at the dripping mop. Merlin pushed back at him playfully.

“Arthur!” 

The soft fabric muffled the pathetic protest and Arthur couldn’t help but snort a laugh at Merlin’s foolish attempt at fighting him. He left the towel over his head just slightly longer than necessary, enjoying the way Merlin shook with his own laughter, and then removed it to find his servant’s cheeks pink and his eyes nearly closed from the force of his smile.

“You nearly got lost in a shirt, Merlin. Clearly you’re too incompetent to do this yourself.” 

Merlin’s impossible grin remained as Arthur moved the towel gently over his face and then down his throat, so bare and vulnerable without his neckerchief. When he reached Merlin’s shoulder’s, the servant found enough breath for a surly and yet sentimental retort. 

“I dress myself every day, unlike some princes I know.” 

The towel reached Merlin’s chest just as the floor shook with another boom. Arthur suppressed his rising dread and instead focused on the beads of water pooling temptingly around his servant’s obvious ribcage. His pulse now beat wildly for a whole other reason. His next words came out thick and forced. 

“It’s an honor to dress a prince, Merlin. Most manservants would savor the opportunity.” 

Merlin giggled when the towel touched his ribs. Arthur catalogued that particular detail in the back of his mind and threw in a few more swipes of the fabric just to watch the younger man squirm. The wind howled outside, barely registering in Arthur’s senses now.

“Don’t see a line of eager men outside of your chambers, do you? I suppose you’re just stuck with me.” 

Arthur dropped the towel, now face to face with a shirtless Merlin, and cocked his head. Those eyes shined with something far beyond their usual mischief. The servant pursed his lips and glanced away briefly in a rare moment of shyness. Arthur took a chance then, his voice rough and surprisingly needy. 

“I suppose I am then.” 

Their eyes met again. A hint of a dare rested behind Merlin’s careful stare. Arthur’s heart hammered against his ribcage now as the rain pounded harder outside. He would have likely let the opportunity drop, citing his own cowardice later on in private, when Merlin’s fingers found his cheekbone and lightly traced the angle downwards to his lips. The pad of the thumb, now warmer, rested against Arthur’s pout as Merlin grew a slow and hesitant smile.

“It’s okay, Arthur. It’s natural to be afraid of a force that you can’t control. To want to take comfort on a night like this one, it’s only human.” His next words came in a breathy whisper. “You don’t have to face your fears alone.”

As if on cue, the storm picked up. Rain beat against the stone walls. Lightning crackled. Wind gave a guttural exhale and then thunder threatened the very foundation holding Arthur together. 

Despite it all, Merlin’s eyes never left Arthur’s. His hands gripped the prince’s thicker waist and pulled until their bodies touched at all angles. Then Arthur closed the distance, taking Merlin’s lips and joining them with his own. The kiss started as a question, a request for consent, and then it bloomed upon Merlin’s eager and heartwarming smile. His servant’s mouth opened like the petals of a flower and he treated it with just as much care, mapping out every dip of silken skin between peeking stubble. Merlin met his tongue willingly and dove in with rabid curiosity. Arthur let him explore and grasped his damp hair just possessively enough between strong fingers.

When the next round of thunder came, they both startled in time to bump their noses and elicit a giggle from the younger of them. Arthur caught his breath and slowly opened his eyes to the servant who’d become so much more as of late. It took a moment for him to feel Merlin’s body shivering beneath his touch. Immediately, he stepped back.

“You’re freezing.” Reluctantly, he tore a hand away from Merlin’s chilled skin and reached towards the changing screen. Retrieving the blue nightshirt, he nodded for his servant to step back. Merlin didn’t argue this time, putting just enough space between them and bowing down slightly. Arthur gathered the soft material in his hands all the way up to the head hole and then placed it over Merlin’s mop. He slid it down over his neck, revealing that absurd grin that quelled his fears, and then helped Merlin’s skinny arms, one by one, into the sleeves. He let the material drape down until it hit Merlin’s knees, hanging more like a dress on the smaller frame. 

The servant stared down at the nightshirt with absolute awe. Then he raised his head to meet Arthur head on. 

“Thank you, Arthur.”

Lightning struck something solid with a startling crackle, sending a threatening flash through the room. Blood pumped loudly in Arthur’s ears, pure adrenaline igniting every nerve. He grabbed Merlin’s arm, too roughly he thought distantly, and pulled him close.

“Merlin, get behind me.”

Thunder cracked like a whip against Arthur’s skin. The room spun. His stomach dropped. All at once, he lost his breath. Arthur wheezed and reacted defensively, pawing at Merlin like a lifeline. Merlin remained at his side, firmly urging his flailing hands to rest around his too-thin waist. Then Merlin leaned their foreheads together, forcing him to meet those calming blue eyes, and spoke quietly and deliberately.

“Arthur, it’s okay. We’re safe. Come with me.”

The younger man guided Arthur towards the bed. His legs followed of their own accord. His body felt foreign, detached, as it sank into the soft surface. Slowly he was lowered onto his side by capable hands and then Merlin’s loving face appeared, filling his visual field. The servant surrounded him with arms, legs, and torso. He threaded long smooth fingers gingerly across his scalp. Gentle lips covered Arthur’s face and whispered reassurances between menacing strikes and booms.

“It’s okay. It’ll be over soon. Just breathe, Arthur. Just breathe.” 

For once the prince did as he was told, taking the order, and much needed comfort, from his servant. The minutes felt like hours punctuated by the slam of shutters and the howl of the wind. Eventually, under the guidance of Merlin’s capable hands, Arthur’s lungs opened, and his muscles relaxed.

Arthur chanced a peek from behind his heavy lids and focused on Merlin’s worried smile and red-rimmed eyes. He lifted his thumb and traced the curve of Merlin’s lips in quiet concentration. Then, the words poured between them like the rain through the shutters.

“I got lost in the woods once, as a child. I was alone all night in a storm much like this one, soaked, exhausted, and so cold. The wind bent the trees completely sideways. The sky turned this nauseating shade of green. Even the strongest men I knew couldn’t have done such things. Then the lightning struck a tree, not far from where I hid, and set it on fire. I just sat there, expecting to be next.” Merlin’s fingers barely brushed his burning cheek. “That storm felt alive, a vengeful monster coming for its prey. I thought it would never give up until it devoured me. Sometimes I still think as much. That I’m just biding my time until that monster returns to finish me off.” 

Merlin’s eyes glistened in the flickering candlelight, his expression contemplative. Arthur waited, wondering which of his words Merlin would choose as a laugh at his expense. Instead, the servant leaned in, placed a single chaste kiss upon his lips, and sighed.

“Then we will slay this monster, just as we’ve slain all the others. There is nothing we can’t defeat Arthur, together.” 

The storm carried on outside his door, but within Merlin’s arms Arthur found safety and hope. Eventually he fell asleep to gentle whispers, kind caresses, and a calming weight upon his chest.

……..

The crisp scent of fresh rain assaulted Arthur’s senses and lured him from a deep and restful slumber.

He inhaled intensely, taking in the choking humidity, and savored the warmth and comfort of the heavy blanket encompassing his entire body. He opened his eyes to a stream of sunlight, still Pendragon red in its infancy, peeking through the cracks between the shutters. Finally, a realization dawned. 

He’d survived. 

A sleepy sigh came from below. Arthur turned his gaze down to his chest and grew a slow smile. His blanket turned out to be none other than Merlin. The servant had lain himself over the prince and somehow tangled their legs together as well. 

Only Merlin, he thought, far too wistfully for this early in the morning.

Slowly recalling the events of the evening, he Immediately sought out the chamber door. It stood open just a crack, allowing the usual noises of a busy castle inside. 

Leon. Anyone else would have disrupted them by now.

Hushed conversation, the skid of broken glass over stone, and the occasional wringing of wet cloth into metal crept subtly into his chambers. That’s right, there had been flooding and debris. Still, all appeared calm in his citadel. A ghost of a smile touched Arthur’s lips, born from substantial relief and the reassuring bulk of his servant. 

Merlin shifted and tried to burrow deeper into Arthur’s chest. 

He tried to feel annoyed, he really did, but that innocent smile and mess of hair warmed him from the inside out. The memories of the night came to him like the slow departure of lightning at the tail-end of a squall. 

Merlin dressing him. Merlin kissing him. Merlin listening, holding him fearlessly through the worst of the storm, and whispering everything Arthur ever needed to hear. 

That innocent face hardly appeared brave in the light of day, but Arthur knew better.

He considered this simplicity that made Merlin suddenly so complex. He had the heart of a boy and the courage of a warrior, yet somehow it all struck a perfect balance to make him _Merlin._

_His_ Merlin, Arthur decided. 

He pictured the raven-haired child in Ealdor, facing mother nature with arms open, and then, an idea struck. Carefully, Arthur threaded his fingers through Merlin’s hair and kissed the top of his head, eliciting a drowsy groan.

“Too early. Sleep.” 

Arthur snorted and leaned down to speak directly into Merlin’s ear in his most princely tone. 

“Rise and shine, Merlin! We have a busy morning and you need to get the horses together.”

Merlin jumped up, seemingly just realizing where he had collapsed, and gave the most adorable wide-eyed blink. Arthur made a note to kiss every detail of that face later on. Now, they had somewhere to be.

“Arthur? Oh, I, uh, yes of course.” He paused, screwing his face slightly. “Where are we meant to be going? I thought the festivities were cancelled.” 

“They are.” Arthur leaned forward, cupping Merlin’s face and placing the purest of kisses upon his swollen lips. Then he leapt off the bed with renewed enthusiasm. “We’re going to the lake.” 

“Right.” Merlin climbed off the bed after Arthur, the nightshirt gathering awkwardly within his waistband and exposing his bare hip. He stumbled adorably, still not fully awake. “Why are we going to the lake?” 

Arthur pieced through his wardrobe, searching for something suitable for the quest at hand. When he found it, he immediately disrobed and spoke through the new fabric as it passed his face. 

“Well, someone has to rescue the fish, don’t they Merlin? Who better than the two bravest of Camelot’s army?” Arthur selected a second set of trousers and an old tunic, both of which he then tossed Merlin’s way. “Put these on.” 

“The fish!” Merlin grinned from ear to ear, rubbing one hand behind his head. Then he clumsily undressed and slid one leg into Arthur’s larger bottoms. “Arthur, that was just a childhood fancy, a futile one at that.” 

Arthur took in the too-big trousers currently hanging halfway down his servant’s legs and the waning smile. It required all of his resolve not to push the younger man back into bed and work on putting a permanent grin on his face. That could wait until later, though. 

He fully intended to woo Merlin properly first. 

Arthur reached the dark-haired man in three strides and took him gingerly by the shoulders. 

“No, not futile. Far from it.” Merlin’s eyes turned up with interest. “I love that you rescue fish, that you even think of such things. Your heart is as big as your ridiculous ears and to occupy even a corner within it, well that would make me a very lucky man.” Merlin squinted with the force of a smile. Arthur lingered on that image as he pulled Merlin’s trousers up, tying them loosely in place. “Now, we must hurry. The fish won’t survive for long.” 

“Right then.” Shaking with childish excitement, Merlin awkwardly pushed the nightshirt over his head, hopeless as usual, and reached for the clean tunic. “I’ll gather us some breakfast to eat on the journey.”

“No need. I’ll deal with the chef.” Now fully dressed, Arthur gripped Merlin by the back of his head and pulled their foreheads together. He met his puzzled expression pointedly, pouring all of his gratitude into one long and heated gaze. When Merlin’s eyes finally softened and filled, Arthur nodded and spoke one last promise. 

“From now on, we face our fears together.”


End file.
